A Breakfast Plan
by DJ Dubois
Summary: In a scenario set after the season finale, Ichabod delves into his past and present while preparing a surprise for a certain special someone. (Ichabod/Betsy Ross) one shot. Please r & r!


DJ Dubois

April 2016

Rating: T (Teen)

Notes: This piece would take place after this season with the anticipation that the Hidden One would be defeated. Sleepy Hollow and its characters belong to FOX. Hope you like this quick one shot!

[Sleepy Hollow, NY—A Week After the Hidden One's Defeat]

The sun peeked eagerly over the eastern horizon starting off that somber morning. The birds sang a few hesitant notes. A residual chill hung in the air from _Nocturne_ 's reign. In town, joggers pounded the concrete and pavement in their daily routines. Others drove to work or shop. Still more dreamed on the village square.

And in a house within the town itself, a sage mind delved into things…..

Ichabod stirred under _Sol_ 's gentle urging. Blinking back the sleepers in his eyes, he allowed them to blur into focus. He sucked in a deep waking breath as he abandoned his dream world for another stint in the real one….

…real in the sense that it was the adopted one he'd emerged into three years prior….

…yet it wasn't the one he'd left behind on that battlefield 200-plus years ago when Death and he had exchanged mutual shots driving them both into this new world….

 _I wonder if Elizabeth I and Sir Walter Raleigh envisioned such a world emerging from our exploratory efforts?_ He scratched his chin imagining how the writers and chroniclers would've envisioned things. _That writer, Mandeville, would've have a field dayexpounding upon this country, I'm sure!_

He mused over how much had disappeared beside his old world.

The Headless Horseman, despite the destruction of Pandora's Box, remained lost in Limbo.

Pandora, in an uncharacteristic move, had sacrificed herself to stop her abusive husband…

The history and culture of Colonial America twisted and convoluted by the fantasies of modern "scholars".

His son, Jeremy, who'd been twisted by Moloch's schemes.

 _Leftenant_ Abbie Mills, his trusted partner and friend, had taken Agent Reynolds up on his offer to head for that strip of Mid-Atlantic coastline called Virginia Beach.

Her sister, Miss Jenny, mourned Joe Corbin's death. After his funeral two days earlier, she'd retreated into herself to deal with her grief.

 _Katrina…._

Ichabod sighed heavily. Despite the recent upturn in _Lady Fortuna_ 's wheel, his heart still remained heavy over the rift with and loss of his wife. _How I wish things hadn't ended as they did._ He frowned and bit his lip. _I wish I could set things right, Milady._

A stirring next to himself jarred him from his meditation.

He glanced over to see a strand of raven dark hair escape the covers next to himself. The form underneath them turned in its slumber. It muttered incoherently before speaking his name and then settling into slumber once more.

He smiled warmly at his companion who slept blissfully. Since their return from the Catacombs, he'd made sure to fulfill Betsy Ross' two greatest wishes….

 _a steady home…_

… _a caring companion and love…._

 _I'm here, Betsy._ He slowly bent over her slumbering form. He marveled at how quiet and relaxed her breathing was. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he kissed the crown of her head. Then he slid out of the bed being cautious as not to shake the mattress overly much. As he pulled the burgundy robe on over his pajamas, he mused over the situation she and he found themselves in. He understood her being overwhelmed by the new era and society…

…after all he'd survived his passage and attempted to help Katrina do the same….

 _You will make it! I will insure that._ He knew of course that Betsy's ingenuity, brains, wit and inner strength would serve her just as well in the here and now as they had in Washington's service. Already he and their friends had started combing through possibilities for Betsy's consideration. In the meantime, he had felt strange sharing his bed with her so quickly after her arrival. It wasn't that he didn't care for her. On the contrary, his feelings for his partner and fellow freedom fighter had reignited into an inferno in no time flat.

Still he was a gentleman after all. And gentlemen didn't just take advantage of a lady's situation….

…that is if said lady hadn't requested _thrice_ that he'd do so…that he'd share their passion….

 _It is my sincere hope that you are in Elysium's bliss, Betsy. After suffering in that horrid place for centuries, you deserve no less!_ His eyes twinkled at her recalling the previous night's pleasures with a warm smile. He wondered how History might have been changed had she never gone on their voyage across the Delaware with Washington and their crew.

 _Would Betsy have been my wife instead of Katrina? How would that affected the outcome of things? Might I avoided being buried and coming back here?_ He ground his teeth and buried the 'what ifs' deep into the darkest recesses of his mind. _Pish posh! It matters not. Katrina did her duty and loved you, Crane. Do not dismiss her. Besides Betsy is here now. You have your opportunity. It seems Fate has given you both another chance!_ He smiled at her once more before stealing silently from the bedroom and toward the kitchen.

A plan was about to be hatched, it seemed. A perfectly concocted meal for his once and future love.

He smiled warmly and with satisfaction in anticipation. He remembered well how much she'd loved buttermilk pancakes with blueberries and real maple syrup drizzled over them. Opening the icebox, he'd produced some eggs, butter, buttermilk and the aforementioned blueberries. He imagined Abbie cringing from the amount of fat that was about to go into that pan.

Knowing how Betsy liked her breakfast, he decided to let the modern day health craze go by the wayside.

 _My humblest apologies, Leftenant. We can indulge, can't we? You've certainly shown me the modern donut holes and Starbucks!_ A wry smirk crossed his features as he cracked the eggs on the side of a ceramic mixing bowl. Ticking off each of the special ingredients into its care, he whisked the ingredients together mixing together a healthy dose of that modern day _maestro_ , Aunt Jemima, and her pancake mix with the same concoction.

Then he set two skillets on the stove while starting the heat. He greased one skillet with butter as he knew Betsy would like. He ladled batter into it forming two perfect round cakes. Into the second pan, he set several mini pork sausage links asizzle with further anticipation.

A minute later, he'd set the coffee maker perking. For the occasion, he'd selected a humble blend of chicory and a poignant dark roast. Although he knew she'd scoff at bottled water in the pot, he shrugged it off as what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Be it humble, he could still see it making her face light up even in the darkest of times…even in the hell that was Valley Forge…. Her smile elicited warm rushes up and down his spine.

He sucked in a satisfied breath. His eyes sparkled with _Amor's_ stars as he flipped the browning cakes and moved the sausages so as to let them brown evenly. He didn't dare let them burn…

…as he had on that mission in New York…

" _You have your moments, Crane, but it seems cooking these sausages isn't one of them," she'd teased him matter of factly. She did enjoy them of course but still needled his prim and proper ego over the suffering pieces of meat._

He rolled his eyes refusing to be so shown up again. Much as a conductor overseeing the perfect symphony, he maintained a careful scrutiny over his heating handiwork. He set out four plates on the counter. He set the first two cakes on one plate. On top of a paper towel, he set the sausage on the second and covered them. Then he ladled in two more cakes for their feast and set them to sizzle away. From the drawer to his left, he produced an old fashioned linen table cloth and pulled it over the plain oaken table in the corner. He set two place settings opposite to each other. Betwixt them, he placed a single white candle in a bed of hemlock and cherry blossoms….

…much as they'd shared on the mission in Burlington….

He allowed himself a degree of satisfaction. He'd recreated elements of their best moments together. Even if it had been duty-driven, they'd shared warmth and deep feelings for each other….

…qualities he was bound to continue with her despite the war now being over….

 _You'll see. Not one of my best moments indeed!_ He flipped the second set of cakes. Then he put the butter, a bottle of real maple syrup and a tiny pitcher of milk on the table. He nodded in satisfaction once again. "That should be everything and…." Then he rolled his eyes. "The sugar!" He fished through three cabinets.

Nothing proved fruitful as the sweetener seemed to skunk him….

Finally on the fourth try, he discovered the desired topping to his masterpiece beside the stove of all places. He rolled his eyes incredulously. "I say _really?_ " He grabbed the offending box and trucked it across the varnished expanse toward the table. "Now _there_! Hide from me, will you?"

"Take pity on that poor sugar, Crane. It did nothing to you," a lilting voice gibed him.

He rolled his eyes hoping he'd finish his craft to surprise her. He turned to see Betsy watching him almost nonchalantly. "How long?"

She shrugged with an almost playful nonchalant smirk. "I don't know. I wasn't counting the minutes. I was enjoying you _finally mastering the moment_." She strode into the kitchen area. "My, my…you _have_ been busy!"

"Yes. Very much so. I apologize for waking you," he noted truthfully. "I suppose my frustration did so?"

Although his kiss on her head had done the deed itself, she wanted him to have his moment. She smiled. "The scent of this meal did that for me. What a pleasant surprise. You remembered."

His eyes shone warmly at her. "But of course! You didn't think I would forget _that_? I'd rather be switched, tarred and feathered."

"If General Howe had gotten hold of you, he might've tried that," she jabbed insightfully. She waited for him to remove the last of the buttermilk cakes onto the plate and shut the heat off. "I need one more thing, Ichabod, before we eat."

He arched a curious eyebrow at her request. "Oh? And what pray tell would that be?"

She grinned mischievously. "Such _scheming_ deserves a reward." She leaned close to him allowing her lips to paint _Amor_ 's brush strokes across his. Then she almost pranced in an out of character moment for herself over to the table. "Now if you're ready, I'd like to sample your wares before it gets cold." She let her eyes twinkle into his.

Had he not been the perfect gentleman, he might've risen to her bait. Instead however, he allowed himself to silently top off her perfect meal. He poured them each a cup of the coffee and set them on the table. Then he served the cakes and sausages. "I believe those are as you like them, Betsy."

"Pleasures of your perfect memory, I'm sure," she noted allowing her smile to broaden at his considerate handiwork. "You never do cease to amaze." She slid into her seat before he could pull it out for her. "Please join me."

"I shall indeed. Pardon my elaborate preparations. I desired a _most pleasurable_ meal for us as you'd treasure indeed," he declared while taking his own chair. "What do you think?"

She drizzled the syrup onto the cakes and sampled a bite from them. She sighed as her taste buds had endured a centuries-long wait for such a treat. The caffeinated washing down elicited more memories of their shared past as he'd intended as well. "Even in our exile, you've maintained the spirit, Ichabod. Very nicely done."

"It is a small thing for one such as yourself, Milady." He savored a bite of sausage. "The passage across _Tempus'_ strands is never easy and fraught with peril. Fortunately you have me as your guide. I shan't fail you."

"The thought never crossed my mind, Crane," she reassured him before enjoying more buttermilk cake in her mouth. "Fate, it seemed, has guided us back together. Now we may share in this life together with the wars over." She glanced toward the morning scene outside of their window. "My partner once more."

"As you are mine, Betsy." He felt lighter than he had since Katrina's death. Once again, his heart soared. He had someone who understood their past much as he'd help her toward their shared present and future. As they'd enjoyed the first steps on this stage of their lives free of battlefields, catacombs, demons and duty, they only had eyes for each other.

And wasn't that what counted at that point? For them it did….

It did and more from that day on…..

THE END


End file.
